Unholy Flames
by Uncharted Power
Summary: A change in the perception of an event can change people. Harry learned of magic early. Following introduction to the wizarding world, Harry is rather unnerved. AU. Bitter Harry. OCs are in the story. BEING REWRITTEN.
1. Prologue

_**Unholy Flames**_

_Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU._

_Prologue_

"Sit still, boy!" Petunia shrieked, her dislike of the boy before her evident with every syllable.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied, quite frightened. His Aunt and Uncle didn't beat him too much, but when they did, it hurt. He didn't want blackballs for voicing what he really wanted to tell her.

Several minutes passed, until Petunia declared she was done, and scurried off, most likely to catch one of her soap operas on television.

Disgruntled, Harry got looked to the mirror. He was horrified. He had no hair. No sign of his unorderly black hair. None.

'I'll get beat up even more at school even more now. Thanks for nothing, you freaking –"

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a loud slam. Uncle Vernon was home. Following his initial shock, dread began to fill him. He always felt this way when Vernon got home, because Dursley's mood depended solely on his day at work, and a bad day for Vernon meant a bad back to Harry.

He exited the bathroom and walked quickly down the stairs. He couldn't see Vernon. Maybe he had left... His train of thought was once again interrupted, but by the sound of laughter. Swiftly turning around, he spotted Vernon. To his dismay, Vernon was laughing himself silly at Harry's haircut. Harry didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"May I go to my cupboard?"

"Go right ahead, boy. Hee hee..." Vernon said, smiling. At least he had caught him in a good mood.

Entering the filthy, dusty cupboard that had become his bedroom of sorts, he glared at the wall. He couldn't defend himself at all, and there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. Shaking his head vigorously, Harry lied down on the row of pillows that had become his bed. He kept thinking of how he would be ridiculed the next day until he woke up.

'If only I had my old hair back...'

Unbeknowest to Harry, his body became cloaked in a harsh light...

_**Unholy Flames**_

Harry woke up feeling quite rested. Dismissing as him going to sleep early, Harry rushed to the shower and quickly bathed and clothed himself. He then sped to the kitchen to cook the Dursleys' breakfast. A typical day.

A half hour later, the Dursleys' arrived to the kitchen, all fully dressed for their day. They sat themselves and began eating. Since Harry wasn't welcome to indulge in the breakfast, he grabbed his schoolbag and left for school.

He couldn't stop thinking about how much more he would be teased. He arrived to his school in a daze, and noticed no one spared him a second glance, so he reached a hand out to his scalp. There was thick hair, but it had been slicked back to fall down the nape of his neck.

'How could I have missed that? That's bloody impossible!'

Try as he might, he couldn't come up with a rational argument. He could only assume he had unknowingly entered himself in some cult, and received magical talents (yeah, right). He decided to confront the Dursleys about it. He doubted he would be punished for asking a harmless question.

Once he was home, he saw Petunia in the living room watching a soap while the smell of roast beef engulfed the house. He decided to simply get the question of his chest.

"Aunt Petunia? I need to ask you a question." Harry inquired.

"Ask quickly, boy. I don't have all day." Petunia snapped.

He took a deep breath and asked "Am I magic?"

Blue eyes locked with his green eyes. He hadn't thought he'd receive a reaction.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Though she attempted to seem mildly interested, he had known her long enough to know she was surprised, and not pleasantly surprised.

"Well, as I'm sure you remember, you gave me a haircut yesterday," Harry said, gesturing towards his black hair, which had grown suprisingly tame. "I can't seem to think of a way it grew back yesterday besides magic.

"Go to your cupboard," Petunia bellowed, her blue eyes shining in outrage. " I don't want to see you!"

"You might prefer not to tell Vernon," Harry said, voice now cold. "I think we both know that if you hate magic, he must loath it. This conversation will stay between us, humm?"

Petunia was too shocked by the idea of Harry sticking up for himself to give any gesture that could be identified as affirmative or negative. She didn't say a word, even as Harry slammed the door to his cupboard shut.

**A/N:** Read and Review. Reviews keep writers writing, and updates fast as a speeding bullet (sorry, had to use that)

In your reviews, share your opinions and constructive comments.

Flames are neither wanted nor appreciated. Neither is sucking up.


	2. Learning

_**Unholy Flames**_

_Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU._

_Chapter 1: Learning_

Across the span of several weeks, Harry found that, to his frustration, he couldn't seem to call out to his magic consciously. He had even resorted to stabbing himself once and using medicine to fall asleep. He had woken with a healed, albeit sore skin.

"What's missing? Why can't I use it?" he muttered to himself. He had been patient for weeks. Now he wanted a taste of that power.

Shrugging to himself, he got up from the musty cupboard floor, and opened the door. He quietly slipped outside. He found that after his talk with Petunia on magic, she had started giving him more liberties. He could now hang out outside and he had a part time job mowing lawns, which payed well due to his neighborhood consisting of mostly upper class citizens.

He walked aimlessly through the streets. The sky was a forget-me-not blue, and he could feel the sun blaring on his skin. It seemed like an awfully boring day. He walked by the yoga center, and marveled at what he saw. They were meditating. That was a likely way to tap into his inner magic!

He was going to meditate, Harry decided. The question was where. The Dursleys' household was much too loud. He couldn't picture himself doing it in a public environment. He had to find a private place.

Harry walked, once again aimlessly, but now he intended to leave town. After a few hours of ceaseless walking, Harry found an abandoned clearing with a DO NOT ENTER sign posted legibly on the gate. Confirming he was carrying his pocketknife, which he had nicked from Dudley, he climbed the gate clumsily and hopped off once his feet were on solid metal.

He investigated the area itself. It was completely abandoned and probably had been for years. It was perfect.

To be sure he remained there until nightfall. When verifying that no homeless person had made this their home, he headed home, or at least where he lived at.

_**Unholy Flames**_

A few days later, Harry returned to the clearing at dawn. His emerald eyes shining with determination, he made himself comfortable and imagined a raging blue ocean. After a while, the water turned a brilliant gold. Or so Harry thought, until he realized this must be his magic.

He had expected it to be like a core, but it spread throughout his body as golden mist, almost like the way blood is all around the body. He couldn't believe it. He was truthfully a mage. That or he had serious mentality issues. He settled for the former.

As he explored the depths of magic longer and longer, he couldn't help but _admire _the ingenuity of it. The magic flowed like blood, meaning every part of his body was magically charged, and was easily controllable from within. He had to remember this... sensation so he could repeat it outside his mind's eye.

The gold mist was his blood, and the dark red from which it protruded was likely the heart. He basically had a secret immune system untraceable by x-rays. There was most likely a downside he could not see. His core was _large_ however, and he wouldn't hesitate to let it go to his head, this being the single best moment in his otherwise miserable life.

He suddenly felt a sneaking suspicion he had overstayed his welcome and grudgingly left his mindscape. He could return another day. Upon returning to reality, Harry checked his second watch that Dudley had believed he had broke. How wrong had he been. To his surprise, it was pretty late into the night. He had to head home, never mind no dinner. He had made a discovery. Once he had more advanced magic at his fingertips, the old Harry could kiss his life goodbye. Harry didn't realize in his thoughts that the old Harry had died a month ago, when he had first discovered the marvel that was magic. He was the only one with this gift, and he'd be damned if he let it go to waste.

_**Unholy Flames**_

The summer vacation was slowly coming to an end, Harry reflected upon sullenly. He didn't want to go to Stonewall. The kids there were even bigger pricks than his primary school classmates. Growing up underprivileged had taught Harry to look after himself. He put friends way after himself. He wasn't arrogant per se, but his own life was his primary concern.

"Boy, get the mail." The impatient voice snapped Harry out of his trance. He really didn't want to go to Stonewall. He was smarter than that. Even his grades could vouch for him.

Sighing, the aspiring young magician lifted himself from his chair, left the dining room, and went to the door to retrieve the mail. Harry took pleasure in knowing who mailed the Dursleys', for future blackmail, so he was surprised to see a letter addressed to him. He shoved it unceremoniously into his pockets, which due to being too large for him fit an envelope just fine. He returned to the dining room, dropped the mail on the table, grabbed his pack, and left the house. He didn't stay indoors very much anymore, as he could only use magic outside and had made several friends in the neighborhood.

That isn't to say he was attached to these 'friends'. They were just people whom he found interesting and sometimes spent the day with. He had an abundance of money from lawn mowing and baby sitting, so he was respected in the neighborhood and had quite a bit of pocket money. Most of it was saved up in case he wanted something later. In the meantime, he felt like returning to the clearing to read the letter he received.

He had grown quite adept at getting to the clearing quicker.

"Hup" he grunted as he jumped off the familiar gate.

He looked at the letter.

First-year students will require:

Uniform

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

**One set of hydra hide goggles **

Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags.

Books

_The Standard Book of Spells (__Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble

_**Ritual Magic: Level 1 by Wanda Goodwing**_

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring a Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Owl your reply

Fake. It must be fake.

'I would have believed magic was fake too...' Harry mentally reasoned.

"Owl your reply? What the hell?" he said hoarsely. He hadn't spoken all day.

As if on cue, a caramel brown owl descended onto the clearing.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" He said, glaring daggers at the owl, who looked at him expectantly.

Growling softly, he reached into his pack and took out a pen and paper. He wrote a hasty reply and gave it to the owl.

"Fuck off, okay?" he said, smiling innocently.

He watched the owl go off. Freaking cultists.

_**Unholy Flames**_

Back at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall was enjoying her first break in the summer. Most of every day she was guiding first years or preparing for the next year's curriculum, which was largely different from the previous years'.

Imagine her unpleasant surprise when she saw one of the school owls descending upon her office. She sighed and sat up. Even on August 20th, she still had work.

"Dear lord..." she grumbled.

She took the letter from the owl, and gave the owl a cracker, which it happily accepted. Upon seeing the name on the letter she opened it with haste and excitement.

_Dear Mister or Miss,_

_I'll need a bit more than a simple letter if I'm going to believe you aren't a radical paganistic cult like the ones that have been appearing on the news. Honestly, it would do well to be more informative._

_Respectfully,_

_Harry James Potter_

"H-He's unaware of his heritage? That's inhumane! I thought we had him in the wizarding world under some new name!" she said to no one in particular.

She had to remedy his ignorance as soon as possible. It wouldn't do for James and Lily's child to be reduced to a simple muggle.

**A/N:** A lot of people read this, but no one reviewed. Please do, as I doubt you like being unsure of whether your story is good or not...


	3. Diagon Alley and Shops

_**Unholy Flames**_

_Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU._

_Chapter 2: Diagon Alley_

Harry sat up, feeling that he had practiced magic enough for a day. Stretching his legs, he briefly pondered on the letter he had received early that morning. Should he be wary of being followed? Was he going to be inducted into a cult? Only time would tell.

"I'm tired." He stated, stifling a yawn with the back of hand.

Just then, the leaves on the clearing floor became swept from their dormant places on the ground. Harry stared, perplexed, as he made out a female figure in the wind.

"Hello, Harry." the woman said.

Instantly, Harry slid his pocketknife into his palm, his muscles tensing as he did so. He certainly didn't want to go down here.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Harry said shakily.

The figure moved forward, and Harry could now make out a woman with graying auburn hair in a tight bun and wearing _robes_, of all things.

Chuckling softly at his hasty questions, she replied, "My name is Professor McGonagall, and not only are you enrolled in Hogwarts School, but I taught your parents as well."

He visibly relaxed, but kept the pocketknife stealthily concealed in his palm.

"Could you prove magic exist, Professor?" he said congenially.

"Certainly." She drew a wand from a pocket on her black robes, which Harry found very ill suited for the terrain. She _summoned _a chair, and moved her wand in a circular motion before saying "_Incendia! _". The chair rapidly caught fire, and he could feel the heat on his skin, before she flicked her wand and it was gone.

"Is that enough proof, Harry?" she said kindly.

He could only nod in amazement. They were more like him. Now he would be able to exercise his true potential.

"Is there a society of magical people?" he said excitedly.

"Yes. Didn't your aunt tell you anything about magic?"

"Only that it isn't real." he said bitterly. He really hated the Dursleys'.

"Perk up," she said, sensing his sudden change in demeanor. "We can fetch your supplies now, if you'd like."

Inspecting his watch, he was surprised to see it was pretty early in the afternoon. He had plenty of time, since the Dursleys' gave him unlimited time outdoors anyway.

"Sure!"

_**Unholy Flames**_

Harry couldn't believe it. It turned out he had a massive fortune left by his parents. He had taken quite a bit of the gold coins, but had also taken the others, as McGonagall had insisted they were just as important. He couldn't help but agree. In comparison, the pound was nothing without the pence, so the galleon couldn't be anything without the knut.

He and McGonagall had split up. She had gone to get his items such as dragon hide gloves while he went to get his robes.

He sat on the stool and impatiently waited for the lady to get him fitted. He had a lot of plans now, and had to act quick. School started in a week. He was brought out of his mental rant by a rather sullen looking boy with blonde hair and green eyes. Like his, but they had blue mixed somewhere in there.

"A-Are you going to Hogwarts as well, then?" the boy asked softly. Harry had to strain to hear him.

"Er... Yeah. Uh, yeah I am." Way to make a good first impression. Way to go.

"Excuse me, I am not so familiar with Britain. I grew up in America, but my parents moved here a couple of months ago and I'm still getting used to it." he said. He seemed like he might have been shy, if it wasn't for that dead look in his eyes. It was extremely unnerving.

"You're done, Mr. Snape." a feminine voice said from the front of the small shop.

"I should get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, ah-"

"Harry." he said extending a hand. "Harry Potter."

The boy's eyes widened before he realized why he was sharing farewells, and sped out.

'What a weird kid', Harry thought to himself. 'Well, whatever. My fitter is here.'

_**Unholy Flames**_

Walking through the muggle streets, Harry found an abandoned-looking shop. He entered, thinking this might be what he was looking for. He had wasted the majority of his day looking for a store that sold antiques that might capture his interest.

He pulled the door, and it didn't budge. His eyes flicked towards to the door, and to his embarrassment, the sign said PUSH. He blushed, and pushed the door open.

The store had a musky smell, one that oddly enough reminded him of his cupboard. He began to browse, his eyes absorbing every little detail it could make out of any items he stumbled upon.

"Please be the one." He consistently muttered under his breath.

"Looking for something?" a confident, mocking voice said from behind him. Harry turned around, and his hand itched towards his back pocket, where he kept his pocketknife.

"N-Nothing in particular... Are you the owner, then?" Harry said carefully, not desiring to insult the man when he was so close, so close to getting something a little new.

"Why, yes, yes I am. Just browsing, then? What's your budget?" This man was certainly polite. Polite enough to intrude on an usually embarrassing topic.

"Pretty high actually. Part time jobs and all."

"Well then, come with me. I might have something of interest for you." the man said shrewdly, his eyes daring him to disagree.

Harry conceded, and followed the man to his counter. The man pulled out two sets of relatively short throwing knives and a.. wand holster? Who was this man?

"I know you're a wizard Harry. Now, these blades have been forged by some of my goblin friends, and therefore have spells on them. Some of the spells are magical flexibility, meaning it can conduct magic well, just like metal conducts electricity. I'm selling for either 300 galleons or 700 pounds. There are around 100 knives in total. It's your choice."

Harry shook his head and said, "How exactly am I going to go around carrying 100 bloody knives? That'd be uncomfortable and so easy to spot."

The man smiled, and Harry shuddered. There was something being hidden in the facade of tranquility, and Harry didn't like it one bit. It just added to the list of disturbing things he had seen or experienced this year alone.

"Like I said, Harry, there are spells. Another is a mental summoning. It only exists in goblin magic, sadly, and it means you summon them when you need them. That's why they are so expensive."

"...I'll take it." Harry said, laying more than a handful of gold coins on the counter. The man carefully counted the coins, and as he did, Harry noticed with growing apprehension that the man's nails were long and claw-like. He hadn't noticed the man very much because the man wore dark sunglasses, which were characteristic for the sunny weather, and wore a wool cap, which Harry had failed to notice well.

"And the wand holster goes on your arm. It summons your wand from everywhere. For you, 40 galleons."

"How much is it normally?" Harry said, a smile creeping on his face despite himself.

The man grinned ferally back. "75."

"I'll take it too. But... what the hell are you? You talk just like old man Ollivander, except he didn't talk prices like you do." Harry said curiously, his eyes subconsciously searching for a shift in body language.

"Ah, Ollivander. That takes me back. And as to what I am, I don't know myself. Just call me Mullo." the man said.

The man slid Harry's items down the counter. Harry took them and placed them inside his pack. He then proceeded to leave.

'Hogwarts tomorrow.' was all he thought about.

**A/N:** Posted this a little early. Don't expect an update tomorrow, because I prefer to be two or three chapters ahead so if I'm unavailable, you guys can still enjoy.

Comment on the poll, as it will be closing in a few days.

Please review!


	4. Hogwarts

_**Unholy Flames**_

_Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU._

**A/N:** Forgot to mention, in this world, Dumbledore is just a powerful old man. Harry vanquished Grindelwald, and Voldemort rules Britain as of now, possibly forever.

_Chapter 3: Hogwarts_

Humming to himself, trunk in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, was Harry, looking for all the world excited. Finally, he could learn magic for real. There was only so much you could learn self-taught and unsure of what you were even dabbling with.

Harry's good mood quickly evaporated. McGonagall had neglected to tell him how to get to Platform 9 ¾, and he couldn't exactly ask; he'd be called a madman and sent to a mental institute. Harry downed his coffee in a few gulps, and while more alert now, he was infinitely more stressed.

"Oh my god..." he groaned. He really had wanted to go to a magic school.

Still, he drifted around Platform 9 and Platform 10 aimlessly, subconsciously hoping the answer would just come to him. Tired, he went toward the wall separating Platform 9 and Platform 10, and leaned. His heart sunk as he felt himself go through.

Harry took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, and put them back on. He wasn't mistaken. He had magically found Platform 9 ¾. Moving towards the red train, he spotted a blonde boy looking quite glum walk into the train. It was Aiden. He ran towards the train.

"Oi! Snape!"

Aiden spun around with such speed that Harry thought Aiden must have been looking at him the whole time.

"Yes? Oh, it's you. Harry Potter, right? Boy-Who-Lived?" Aiden said, no contempt in his soft, cordial voice.

"Yeah, sure, why not," Harry offered. "Let's find a compartment before we run out of seating options."

Aiden did not reply, and just walked on ahead. Harry looked at him, and followed. He had no idea why the boy talked so little. He had thought people loved to talk about themselves.

"Do you like Quidditch?" Harry said, attempting conversation.

"No. Father says I shouldn't partake in such a savage sport."

Harry tried again, "Are you into Dueling?" He didn't expect it to work on such an seemingly apathetic individual.

He was wrong.

"I love Dueling!" Aiden exclaimed. "Did you see the last International Dueling Championship?"

"No." was the simple response.

As if not hearing him, Aiden started to babble about all the famous Dueling champions and how they had performed.

"... And Lumari blasts him off the ring with the most awesome _Bombarda _ever!" Aiden summed up.

"That's pretty cool. I have a feeling you're going to kick my ass in dueling class," Harry said in an amused tone. Aiden just grinned in response. "Speaking of class, you do know our Charms teacher was a former dueling champion?"

"Yeah. My father's the Potions Master so I met him earlier on. Nice guy," he said.

"What's your dad like? Is the class going to be a breeze or hell?"

Aiden instantly tensed up at the mention of his father. His eyes darted everywhere, as if perhaps the Potions Master was here the entire time.

"He's pretty strict. He has high standards, so don't expect to ace his class easily." Aiden said carefully.

"Damn. He must make you wear a tie to bed, huh?" Harry said jokingly.

Aiden stared blankly for a second, and then started laughing. Harry laughed with him for what seemed like an eternity before they stopped.

"You're all right, Aiden." Harry commented.

_**Unholy Flames**_

The two boys exited the compartment. It was odd how different they looked from one another. They both had green eyes, though Aiden's definitely had blue somewhere in there, but that's where the similarities end. Harry had rather unruly jet black hair, while Aiden had straight blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. Harry's wand was made of hydra scale and cypress wood. Aiden's was made of phoenix feather and hawthorn. Harry had a look of confidence, mixed with a small amount of humility. Aiden had a look of someone who was miserable, but able to handle himself in sticky situations. It was only natural that they became fast friends.

They were waiting outside the Great Hall to be sorted.

"Shut up, you guys!" a girl with wavy brown hair said. "We put on a freakin' hat to get sorted alright? It's simple! Now shut the hell up!"

"What's her problem?" Harry said, arms crossed. She was insanely loud.

"Who cares?" Aiden mumbled, looking quite green.

Harry looked to him but wisely refrained from commenting. He assumed Aiden's sorting would affect his father quite a bit. Sometimes he wished he had parents. But not parents that judgemental.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the Great Hall and addressed the school. "Let the sorting begin!"

The sorting went in alphabetical order, and Harry was happy to zone it out, at least until his name was called.

"Potter, Harry."

An ominous quiet settled. Harry glared lazily at the student body, and sat on the stool as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

"_You're cunning enough to satisfy your needs, you have great ambition, but no, you would not belong in wee Slytherin. You are brave, but would never rush into it without thinking about it. You are only loyal to yourself. Humm. You remind me of Tom Riddle, but he was obvious for... said too much."_

Harry grew impatient. The hat had spent a while muttering quite loudly as to his characteristics. It was downright rude, accusing, and offensive.

"Sort me, you bloody hat!" he whispered.

"BETTER BE - _RAVENCLAW!"_

The blue table to his right broke into applause, the whole lot of them grinning like lunatics. He threw the hat back onto the stool, and walked towards the blue table. People at the Gryffindor stared at him with looks of betrayal, Slytherin with cold regard, and Hufflepuff paid him no heed.

Aiden was sorted into Slytherin. Harry looked to the Slytherin table, and there was a boy with pale blonde hair and grey eyes conversing with Aiden as if they had known each other forever. For all Harry knew, they had.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a scream. There was a freckled boy with red hair, and he glared coldly at the Sorting Hat. The boy had apparently been mind-raped just like Harry, but the boy must have a temper to attack it so evilly. The boy, who a housemate told him was Ron Weasley, walked to the Slytherin table.

Dumbledore got up at addressed the students: "You know the rules. Please avoid the Forbidden Woods, and the third floor is reserved for Dueling Club, so do not go there for any other reason. On a happier note, let's sing the tune to the Hogwarts song."

Everyone sung at different paces. Harry was startled to see a pair of twins, with the same red hair as Ron Weasley get on the table and start singing a dance club version of the song.

He could tell he was going to love this place.

**A/N2:** I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. The last part was a bit rushed, and I feel woozy!

Please review!


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